Pet Adrian

By DX

Copyrighted 2002, 7/2024, all rights reserved. 

After Adrian's third espousal abuse charge, the court remanded him to our custody. He was combative and unrepentant and fought with the police and guards. Even after he was placed in a padded cell, he continually lashed out.  Concerned for his safety, our guards reentered his cell and forcibly placed him in a straight jacket, leg binder, panel gag, and blindfold, and left him on the floor of his padded cell. 

After court review, and input from his wife Sally, the judge remanded him to be placed in the PFL program.  The Permanent Female Lead program is a life sentence, and is reserved for violent, misogynist males.  Adrian was placed under the guardianship of his wife, Sally.

Through court recommendation, Sally opted to use Chasti-Permalock products.  Chasti-Permalock uses nanites.  Nanites are microscopic machines that can provide a wide array of functions within a host, to include levels of chastity, or surgical alterations.  

Sally chose all permanent options for Adrian. 

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My Fantasy

by DX

Copyrighted 8/2006, 7/2024  all rights reserved. Story may not be used without permission from the author. Contact at [email protected]

On a cold, grey day, when the trees were stark and bare, I gather my things and prepare for my adventure. My heart begins to flutter with excitement, with lust. I have a simple, one room cabin tucked away in the middle of nowhere. I have a simple life, a simple world. I do not have a television or a computer. I do have a telephone, but I have no one to call. I have walls of books. Some I wrote, most, I didn't. Books, and the stories within them, are my life.

But sometimes, they are not life enough.

I clear off the pile of blankets from the foot locker. There is an antique pad-lock securing it. The key hangs from a gold chain around my neck. People think it’s such a pretty key. They don't know what it goes too. It goes to this chest, to my kink, to my lust.

Inside the chest is oblivion.

The smell fills the whole room. Black as tar, my reflection peers up at me from a wavy pond. I pull open the zipper on the rubber bag and I release the alien creature within. First I find the eggs. Silver and smooth. I slide them up into my body. Their remote control antenna dangle like mice tails between my legs. Next go my training panties. They are rubber with a long drain tube. It will allow me many hours without needing release.

And I plan on many hours.

Long and stretchy, the cat suit merges with my body, numbing my hyper senses. With a little lubricant, it slides on, squeezing me. I thread the drain from my panties through a hole in the crotch and zip the suit up. As it closes in on my breasts, I take electric clamps. They are two wooden dowels with copper wire wrapped around them connected by screws. With twists of a screw they squeeze my swelling nipples until they feel they are about to burst. I endure their harsh pinch as I connect the wires to a small remote. The remote nests in the cleavage of my breasts. I zip all the way up, the zipper ending at my chin. I run my hands across my breasts, feeling the tightness. My breath grows short.

I lace up my high heel combat boots, the leather coming up over my calves. I carefully step into the ring of my corset and slink my hips through. I wrap the laces around my fingers and pull, feeling the clench across my waist. I take a breath, exhale and pull again, tighter. I gasp, then force the last of my wind from my lungs and pull again. I quickly double knot the laces before I dare breathe again. My breath is very shallow. Beads of sweat dot my brow as if squeezed from my body.

I don rubber gloves, rolling them up over my rubber sleeves, up over my elbows.

I take my rubber mac from the stand. I pull it on and tighten the belt across my already constricted waist.

As I don my hat, surplus Soviet winter issue, black fur and a red star on the brow, a story, much like the many stories I have written, is running through my head. I am a Nazi spy, an evil seductress. My weapons are my breasts, my body. I can kill with a flash from my dark eyes. Deep inside me I have concealed secret crypto gear.

My code name is, DX.

I step outside. My shack is hidden, deep in the woods. I am traveling through the old country of Romania, searching for my contact. I am a villainess and I am planning to kill him. I will lure him off guard with my wiles, closing with him, my breath mixing with his. I will embrace him, my lips on his. As the last of his will ebbs, I will scratch him with my poisoned claws. As the chilling death grips him, paralyzing him, his lungs, his heart, I will suck the last of his life into me.

I am a Vampire!

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Simone was a volunteer

By DX

Copyrighted 4/2001, 7/2024 all rights reserved.

Simone's whole body quaked as she again tested the chains that held her; arms up, legs spread, exposed to the audience that surrounded her. She could feel the heat of the lights aimed at her, yet she shivered nonetheless as she looked down at the tray of diabolical instruments laid out before her. Tools that were to flay her alive.

Dr Zim stepped forward like a circus ring master, her red, latex lab coat gleaming, her black gloved hands upraised for silence. "Masters and Mistresses, let me introduce our main event! Her name was Simone, a most special prize. Not only is she beautiful, but a woman who knows what she wants. And what she wants is to entertain you with a demonstration, never seen by any audience. Tonight, Simone will be skinned alive! Her hide will be tanned to make a new catsuit for me." Dr Zim swayed her hips demonstrating how sexy she would look with the form fitting leather suit, swatting her shapely derriere. "She's been injected with stimulants to insure that she stays conscious throughout the ordeal, but nothing to dim the pain. Then afterwards, her raw flesh will be whipped for your sadistic pleasures!" Dr Zim smiled as she donned her surgical mask and protective goggles. "Isn't this what you volunteered for Simone?" 

Simone shook her head frantically and screamed incoherently into her jaw breaking gag.

Dr Zim pouted a frown. "Aw, poor Simone," She smiled as she held up her scalpel. Its keen edge reflected the light and blinded Simone, filling her vision with grey. "but you did volunteer, didn't you?"

——

The sky was grey and angry, threatening to rain as she made her way quickly through the dilapidated buildings— the blank stare of the blackened windows were the only witness to her passing. Following the directions, she found the rusted warehouse door open, almost welcoming. The heels of her pumps clicked ominously on the greasy metal floor. Above her, steel hooks glinted dully in the dim light. It had been more than a hundred years since anyone had used this meat packing plant and it was the most unlikely place to find executive offices for an international corporation.

But it was the perfect place for white slavers.

After a harrowing ride on the barely functional freight elevator, Simone, following the shaft of fluorescent light that filled the hall, found the office of Dr. Zim. Simone knocked timidly on the doorframe and peeked in. The secretary looked up, her sapphire eyes sparkled, but held a distant, thousand-mile stare. Her face was as smooth and fair as porcelain, framed by a cascade of spun gold hair.  Her lips curled in a gentle, bemused smile were full, and oh, so kissable… the color of blood. 

Simone found her breath still in her lungs as she beheld the most beautiful woman in the world. 

Simone's voice trembled. "Um, I'm here to meet with Dr. Zim.  I have an appointment."

The secretary nodded knowingly and rose from her desk, motioning with her hand for Simone to have a seat. As Simone did, the secretary stepped over to a door and with a soft knock, stepped in. Simone watched the secretary's deliberate motions, her distant stare, her too perfect eyes, and realized she was blind.   She functioned with the parameters of the office memorized. Her face was probably a mask, the girl underneath gagged. Her hands were only fingerless mittens.

Simone shuddered. She had searched the wildest clubs, the exclusive Internet chat rooms, and followed the stories that everyone said were nothing more than an urban legend, fantasy too the extreme. Some had lied to her, others told her to seek psychiatric help, and some, a select few, had clues for her to follow, clues that led here, to the fulfillment of her fantasy.

She waited.

Fifteen minutes later the secretary returned, motioning to Simone to enter the inner office. Simone smoothed out her tight skirt, squared her shoulders and walked in. Chin up, eyes ahead she marched directly in and stopped before the desk of Dr Zim. 

The oriental woman looked up from her lap top, her green eyes taking in the woman before her. She smiled, almost mockingly. "You are more beautiful in person." Her voice was smooth as cough syrup. "A nice body,” She turned and tapped on her keyboard, nodding to herself. "Sit down." She said as she rose and came out from behind her desk, leaning on it. "Most of our clients are, uh, appointed to the position: a sibling in the way of an inheritance, a troublesome wife. Most are criminals, others are parasites on society. People who no one would notice gone. We don't get volunteers here." She lowered her gaze. "So tell me, Simone, why are you here? "

"To be a slave." Her voice was tiny. "A real slave, a total slave."

Dr Zim scoffed. "There are countless of masters who would love to make you a slave, why did you seek me out?"

"I don't want fur lined cuffs." Simone answered. "Or safe words. I don't want limits to be respected, I don't want limits. I want the real thing. Every master I have ever met is afraid to test the range of their imagination. I want no limits."

Dr Zim laughed breathlessly. "Do you now?" She smiled, her eyes sparkling slits. "But do you know what a slave is?"

Simone searched for an answer. "A person who wants to give another person pleasure."

Dr Zim shook her head. “A person who wants?  No, no, no…  A slave has no wants.  A slave is meat. Nothing more." She motioned with a tilt of her head. "Do you see my secretary? She's useless. I keep her around because it pleases me to watch her suffering. She's blind, sexless, horny and helpless to do a thing about it. Do you know what she looks like under that mask? Nothing, nothing at all. Her head is only a blank, smooth orb. In fact, her whole body is an androgynous form. I operated on her and sculpted her in the image that amused me. Taking that beautiful body and face away pleased me. I took away her eyes last so she could watch the transformation. Her pleading eyes crying as her beautiful body and face fell beneath my scalpel is what pleased me. 

“The face she wears is her face. After I removed it from her, I had it treated in a Bio-lex chemical which turns skin into a supple, latex form. I did that to her whole body giving her a latex body. Smooth, featureless. Her wastes are stored in the empty space where her sex organs used to be. I can let her go for weeks, watching her swell up like a pregnant mother until I am ready to empty her." Dr Zim smiled proudly. "I mock her with her own face. She does not want to be a slave, but she obeys because she knows that what I've done to her is nothing compared to what I could do to her."

Dr Zim lifted a heavy Lucite block and dropped it into Simone's lap. Simone looked at the block, shivering at what was frozen inside. A breast. A perfect breast in shape and size with a pronounced, suckable nipple. "That is a real breast. I think the mark of a woman, how she is viewed and judged, is what her breasts look like. We can fool ourselves to think it’s her hair, or dress or how she walks, or how smart she is, but I know it’s her breasts. I see her will and resistance flitter away as I cut off her breasts." Suddenly Dr Zim leaned forward and slipped a hand down Simone's neckline and grabbed a firm hold on Simone's breast. "Mmmmm, you have lovely breasts. I will enjoy adding them to my collection." She gave Simone’s breast a small pinch. "I can feel your heart beating, pounding." 

She let her go.  She rose and stepped behind her desk. "I can see that you've liquidated all of your possessions and transferred them to my account." She said looking at her computer. "You can follow instructions, that is good." She looked up at Simone, her eyebrow arched skeptically. "But do you still want to be a slave? My slave?" She held up a finger to stop her answer. "Since it is so rare that we get a volunteer, that I will give you a choice, possibly the last choice you ever make." Dr Zim reached into her drawer and took out a pair of handcuffs, ankle cuffs and a red ball gag. "I am going to leave the room. You can get up, walk out of here and resume your life as a real person. The money that you put is my account will be your punishment for being a fool." She looked at Simone, her green eyes penetrating. "Or, you can strip naked, put the ankle cuffs on, then the gag, and then the hand cuffs on in front of you." Dr Zim stepped from behind her desk. "I give you five minutes to decide your destiny. Choose wisely."

Simone watched as Dr Zim left the room with her secretary in tow. 

Simone looked at the breast paperweight and imagined if it was her own.  She shuddered at the thought. She rose and set it on the desk.

With trembling hands she slipped out of her dress.

She gasped as she felt the cold metal circle her ankles and ratchet closed. With shaking hands she opened her mouth and felt the gag against her teeth. She pushed harder, and stretched her jaw painfully to force the ball over her teeth to settle into her mouth. She buckled the gag tightly even though she realized the gag was so huge she couldn't spit it out anyway. The handcuff, glistening polished steel, well oiled, well used, encircled her wrist and tightened one click at a time.  With each click, her heart skipped.  She clicked them closed until they fit snugly against the bone.

It was done.

Simone waited. She stood at attention, eyes straight, chin up.

She had no way to track the time, but she knew five minutes had surely past.

Then ten, twenty. Finally Simone sat in the chair. She sat at attention, back straight, hands in her lap.

An hour passed before she heard Zim's soft laughter come from the hall and the voice of another woman. Simone sat up, alert, surprised she had slouched. ‘Bad slave’ she scolded herself. Simone felt goose flesh on her naked skin as she heard the doctor's voice behind her.

"She's still here? I thought for sure I'd spooked her off. This is that volunteer I told you about, your grace."

The Duchess stepped in front of Simone, taking a look at her. "She is quite beautiful." She mused. "I just love her eyes." She cupped Simone's chin and lifted it up for a better look. Simone looked up into eyes, green like a jungle leaf.

"Do you like them?" The doctor asked. "I'll have them mailed to you." She touched the intercom. "Alice, bring in the box."

Simone was still lost in the expansive, expressive eyes of the Duchess, unable to look away from the woman's beauty. "What would I do with just her eyes?" The Duchess let Simone go. 

"That's your business." The doctor said stepping over. She waved at Simone. "Slave, stand up." Simone snapped to her feet as Alice wheeled in a trunk. She positioned it in front of Simone and undid the clasps. The top and front came away.

The Duchess leaned on the desk, out of the way. "Listen, I've been approached by the CIA."

"Going back into the spy business?" Zim turned Simone around, her back to the trunk. "Sit your ass in the back of the trunk, pull your knees to your chest and drape your wrists about your ankles." She ordered.

Simone was a slight girl but she had to squeeze her way into the box, settling all the way in. Zim then took a rod and passed it through one side of the box, under Simone's knees but over her arms, to the other side of the box where it screwed in securely.

"The CIA wants to build a bordello." The Duchess went on. "They want a total house of debauchery to entertain foreign diplomats. They will provide Madams who will wheedle secrets, and I will provide girls as the entertainment." The Duchess looked down at Simone. "I think with a few of your magical modifications, she would make a great little sex toy for some ambassador."

Dr Zim strapped a cannula into Simone's nostrils. "I promised the Baron  my very next slave and this little girl is it."

The Duchess scoffed. "Didn't you already give him the perfect oral toy?"

Dr Zim, her eyes sparkling, looked up. "Beautiful, isn't she? Well, like all my sex toys, all facial features are removed, leaving her head a smooth orb, but in this case, I saved the mouth. After pulling all her teeth, I gave her the most luscious, fat, suction lips and gums with the mouth and throat reconstructed to the ultimate love sheath. I then grafted the perfect latex face, I think I used a copy of Alice's face, onto the head. Beautiful work. The Baron can take his doll out into public. People just pity the beautiful blind, deaf, and mute girl and have no idea she's one of my masterful creations." The doctor bragged. "Well, as I usually do with my dolls, I remove the sex organs and any possibility for her to have any gratification. I find my dolls are more attentive to the needs of others when there is no possible way for them to obtain any gratification for themselves. I implant a chip to stimulate hormone production so dolly is internally and eternally driven mad with insatiable sex drives. This gives them plenty of energy to perform. Then, to make her the perfect oral dolly, I injected genetically altered parasites into her intestines that feed on the Baron's DNA coded sperm. It prevents her from digesting anything else. She digests the parasites when they're big enough. So ultimately, she needs the Baron's sperm to live and soon she is conditioned to crave it.

"Well, the Baron said he was looking at his little asexual doll, the smooth featureless crotch, and decided he wants that space for another oral cavity." Dr Zim glared at Simone. "So, I'm going to be taking Simone's pretty mouth, throat, and most of her brain, invert it, and transplant it into The Baron’s slave to create the world's first oral pussy." She smiled as she watched the horror creep onto Simone's face. "That's all that will be left of you my pretty. Blind, deaf, your sense of smell and touch, all gone.  Your brain will be kept alive by your new host’s blood supply.  You’ll just be new tissue.  You’ll be alert and aware and after conditioning, you'll be dedicated to sucking the Baron's fat cock as he fucks you and gets oral pleasure." She looked up at the Duchess. "Isn't that a brilliant idea? Simone has the perfect lips for sucking, don't you agree?"

"Don't you think that's a little wasteful?"

Zim laughed. "I'm going to skin her alive and tan her hide for a new catsuit for me to wear. The rest of her organs will be auctioned on the black market, no waste at all."

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Copyrighted 4/2001, 7/2024 all rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced in any format without explicit, previous permission from the author.  

A Most Contagious Fantasy

By DX

Copyrighted Sept 2000, June 2024, all rights reserved.

 Spheres of golden oranges, glinting in the bright, white electric light caught her eye, and at that moment she decided to buy them.  She could see in her mind the gleaming, sweet, yet tart juice in a tall narrow glass, absorbing the morning rays of the sun, standing guard over her husband's breakfast.

 Delicious.

 She knew it would be, although she would never taste it.

 Automatic mist hoses sprinkled the broad, emerald green leaves of the Chinese cabbage, showering them with diamonds.  The apples where piled high, like a bubbling mountain of blood. 

 She blinked to stop the images.  She was staring again, lost in the brilliant colors of the fresh produce.  She did that more and more since her sight was the only sense

left to her.

 Her hands, now thumbless mittens, carefully selected her oranges.  She had to hold each orange with both hands and carefully drop them into the clingy plastic bag. 

 Although her skin was a shinny, translucent latex, it was hard to grip the fat round oranges.  

 From the corner of her eye she could see the grocer watching her.  Such a sweet man, always on hand to help if need be.  He was drawn to her because of her erotic air of helplessness.  

 She was very helpless, and that empowered her.

 She pushed her cart along to the check out.  Her ballet shoes clicked sharply on the shinny tile.  She had dangerous legs.  The kind that could cause a pile up on the highway from drivers, male and female alike, turning to look at them.  Perched high above them was her magnificent ass, cheeked just right to beg for a hard hand to slap. 

 Her waist, pinched to almost nothing, made every woman draw a sharp breath from a sympathetic gasp.  Her bosom was heaving, jutting out of her chest, defying the law of gravity.  All of this was covered over with the tiniest of sun dresses.  The dress barely concealed the steel corset that wrapped her body, or the breast covers that locked away her nipples, or the chastity that secured her sex forever.  What they could see was the massive gag that sealed away her mouth and the plugs that took away sound and smell.  They could see the tall, stiff collar that held her head regally erect.  Her hair was gone, save for a plume of glowing amber that came from the back of her head and her eyebrows and her long, long eye lashes.  Her ankles and wrists were shackled to add that much more to her prison.

 She was a chastised woman.  Infected by a runaway fantasy that her husband had; a fantasy he never thought would be.  She now lived to the extreme and she found herself continually adding to her plight, her helplessness.  To her delight and despair, she had now reached the point were she could no longer add to her body and still function.

 At the check out, she watched the girl ring up her groceries.  She had a sweet, pleasant face and a quick smile.  Her eyes were wide and wondrous as they stole glances at the strange customer, trying not to stare.

 It had been a few years ago when she first found the Chasti-Permalock corporation and locked herself up before she had the courage to venture out of the house.  She got strange, long and open stares from the neighborhood.  She only held her head proudly, and not just because of the stiff, high neck collar, and went about her daily business.  

 Now, at the register, there was an inquisitive girl whose stares were of wonder. 

 Her name tag read: Rebecca.

 "What's it like?"  The girl asked in hushed whisper.

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Copyrighted Sept 2000, June 2024, all rights reserved.
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